Everybody's Fool
by NileGal
Summary: AU POTWCrossover. Blackpool has been haunted by a murder, however now a mysterious blond woman by the name of 'The Wolf', Rose, appears to help a certain DI to understand his choices. DWBlackpool.
1. Chance Meeting

**Title: **Everybody's Fool

**Rating: **T

**Author**: hobbithunter

**Characters: **Rose, Peter Carlisle (Blackpool)

**Pairings: **hinted 9/Rose, possible Rose/Peter

**Spoilers**: Spoilers for the series Blackpool, and Bad Wolf with alternate Parting of the Ways

**Author's Note: **_Yay for dark fanfictions! Just a little idea that came to my mind when I was showering after watching episodes 3 and 4 of Blackpool and wondering about Doctor Who, never mix the two. This is rather dark and angst filled I warn you now. It will stray off from the story of Blackpool a bit, but I'm not sure if I will continue this one, depends on feedback really. Only part one is written like this, if I choose to continue the story._

**Song Credits:** _Our Farewell _by Within Temptation.

* * *

"I need you! …I need you. And you need me."

A moment of silence.

"Well get over it."

He watches as she stands and walks from him, from what happen, from what could happen. His eyes drift to the sea before him before slumping back into his seat, staring. It was evening; the sun was going to set soon. Metaphoric, but not comforting. His head leans back against the bench, closing his eyes as he attempts to sort through his thoughts and feelings. He had gotten in to far, hadn't he? How did a simple act of questioning turn into _this_. He slowly opens his eyes, and something catches his gaze, from the corner of his eyes.

He sits up, looking over at what has caught him in his moment of weakness. It isn't her, but she was someone different. He's seen her around Blackpool, more recently as his investigation has become heavier. Somehow, someway, whenever he sees her she is always standing there. Waiting for something.

Waiting.

He figures there isn't another way he can mess up his life anymore. He has lost sight of his job, his purpose, and it was falling around him now. So he stands elegantly, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to make the first move. Last time he had made the first move, it ended up where he was now. However she stands there, watching him as her hair moves into her face through the wind. It is blond, maybe golden in the way it shines in the evening sun. She just stands there.

Waiting.

He walks over to her, looking down at the shorter person in front of him. "You ok?" he asks, squinting from the rays of the fading sun. Her eyes look up to meet his, wavering as they meet in a gaze. Her mouth opens to say something but shuts tightly, attempting to sort her thoughts through her feelings. He frowns, stepping more to be in front of her and to shield his eyes from the sun. "Miss?"

"You're so much like him." She speaks. It startles him, his head moving slightly back in surprise. She turns from him and walks away from what has happened. Unknown to him at the moment he surges forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. She stops in her footsteps; her eyes slowly looking over his hand and up his arm till she reconnects with his gaze. He's speechless, trying to understand his action.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks finally. He sees her falter, lost and surprised, unable to comprehend what he has asked from her. He catches that her eye has wandered from his own, staring behind him. He removes his hand as he turns his own head to see what she sees, his partner is approaching them. He feels the need to explain and turns to face her, but she's no longer there. His eyes dart around to find the golden hair woman, unable to see her. He stands there and becomes aware of his partner's presence before he begins his walking again; passing a blue box that was not there before.

That has been haunting him for the last few days. His mind wanders to the meeting, loosing track of his purpose in Blackpool. At first he believes it is because of Natalie, but that isn't it. It is because of a murder, one he has made his soul duty in life to solve, to pin the man named Ridely for. He knows he is guilty. Everything points to it. The keys, the drugs, the brothel in his wife's name, the son with drugs, everything points to it. And yet something escapes his grasp, something he can't figure out that eludes him from the answer to the case.

* * *

"Carlisle!"

His thoughts are interrupted, causing him to jolt and his coffee nearly to fly on his partner's face. He grins sheepishly at his partner before turning in his chair and relaxing to find another man behind him. He raises his eyebrows in question, taking a drink of the now cold coffee.

"You have a visitor."

He blinks, his mind jumping to who would see him at work. Not Natalie, she never would; possibly Danny, ready to tell the truth instead of attempting to make his father proud. Whomever it is he decides to stand and go see who is waiting for him beyond the door. He opens it, stepping outside to find her. The blond from the beach, she stands there just like she did then as if they were simply moved from one spot to the next. His eyes dart behind him as if someone is attempting a cruel joke, but his gaze switches back and fixes on hers. Her hair is down, she has loop earrings in her ears, a dark pink top on covered by a white jacket, dark blue jeans to add to the contradicting outfit, the one that spoke for her eyes.

"I want to talk." She says simply.

"I'm at work." He says simply in return before he can realize he is answering her, this woman he has never spoken to.

"I know." She answers. "I know the case you are working on, I know the victim, and I know who you want to blame for the death."

"A lot of people know that one." He replies.

"But not everyone knows about his wife." She dares.

A spark of anger lights inside him. The reminder of the fight and the passion nearly snaps him to hurt her, but in a defiance to prove her wrong, to lie to himself, he grabs her by the arm and leads her out of the police station. He lets go of her and spins to face her.

"Let's talk here." He says.

"Not here." She looks around before she returns his gaze. His eyes narrow. "Somewhere else. I know where." She walks past him but her hand reaches out and entwines itself into his fingers. He looks down; being dragged to the destination she has in mind. He can see she has no idea why she took his hand, just as he has no idea why he opened himself to her, why he had offered to comfort her. It baffles him still, he can't understand the impulse. Maybe he just cannot stand to see a woman sad?

She leads him to the spot from before, standing against the wall and looking out at the noon sun. He stands beside her, his hands now in his pockets looking at the same sun. His eyes travel to her, looking her over to assure himself she is there and did not disappear like she did before. He turns to her then.

"You said you wanted to talk." He says.

"I did." She speaks. She looks up at him. "You asked me if I wanted to talk."

"I did." He agrees. "And then you came and got me. Why?"

She bites her lip and looks away for a moment, then up at him, her gaze soft as her eyes sparkle with unshed water. "Why are you so much like him?" she asks.

"Like who?" he asks. "I've been told I'm me and no one else."

"You're so similar." She replies, looking him over before returning to his eyes, soft and brown, not blue. "The way you talk and walk, the way you turn to look, the way you see things. I don't understand how are you like him in so many ways but not him?"

"I don't understand what you're talking bout, Miss." He says, gesturing for her to sit down on the bench. She sits and he sits beside her and turns to her. "We should start off with your name, if you don't mind tellin' me that is."

She looks up at him. "I have a lot of names." She says.

"All of us have nicknames." He reassures. "What's the name you want me to know you by?"

She pauses, unsure if she should. She hasn't spoken her real name in a great many years, at times she forgets. And yet she finds herself answering his question. "My name is Rose Tyler." She speaks softly. "Most know me by The Wolf."

"_The Wolf_?" He tilts his head, looking at her oddly. "I haven' heard of a nick name like that before. If you don't mind I think I'll be callin' you Rose, that alright?"

"It's fine." She speaks. "I haven't been called that in a long time."

A silence falls on them. A somewhat comfortable silence as they enjoy each others company. He still doesn't understand why he is here or came with her; he refuses to accept any answers that would be a logical one. He decides that now would be a good time to act upon the information she knew of when they met earlier. He shifts in his seat, his hand resting behind the bench.

"You spoke that you knew 'bout the case I'm workin' on, Rose." He says. She looks at him, her head tilting and the blond hair spills over her shoulder. He looks up at the sky for a moment before returning his eyes to her blue ones. "So how do you kno' 'bout it, besides the fact that everyone else in Blackpool kno's 'bout it of course."

She almost smiles. "I know how it ends." She looks out at the ocean. "I saw it before, in my mind, but in the end it was nothing more than a passing thought in an ocean. But I saw it happen." She turns and looks back at him, seeing the confusion and disbelief in his eyes. "You don't believe me, Detective Carisle?"

He opens his mouth, putting his tongue to the back of his teeth as he thinks. "No, not really. After all you're sounding like a nutter."

"Maybe I am." She replies.

"Yes, maybe you are." He agrees. "So then, you can tell me who killed him, where, and why he was stashed inside the casino?"

"No."

"But you just told me you knew who did it,"

"I do."

"Then why can't ya tell me?" he pursues with the questions, it is his job.

"I can't interfere." She speaks and looks at him. "I used it to get you here, to speak with me. You offered and I took the offer."

"Only because you've been followin' me round Blackpool the last week." He states.

She smiles then, a playful one, but her eyes are still sparkling with unshed water. "Because you remind me of him. I want to know why."

"Well then," he straightens, leaning against the back of the bench and places his chin in his palm. "Tell me 'bout this man, the one I remind ya of. Can't really say how I'm like him if I don't know anythin' 'bout him, yeh?"

She frowns then, looking out over the sand as the wind blows the hair from her face, her eyelashes meeting each other to keep the water unshed. "He was…I was his companion…not like that, but just a couple of friends travelin…" she glances at him to see if he is still interested, and his eyebrows have moved up slightly. "He found me, cause of something else…and, he offered me to travel with him. We went to a lot of places, saw lots of different things and people…." She trails off.

"He ditched you then?" he asks.

"No." she says hotly, but calms herself and looks at him. "No he would never have done that, never." She inhales and looks down before meeting his gaze. "We ran into a bit of trouble, you see…and, he sent me home to keep me safe." She looks out at the ocean, her eyes lowering to the sand as she silently remembers the last few moments with him, the laughing and the chuckling about what would happen, what could have happened.

"What happened to him?" he breaks into her thoughts.

"He's dead." She says and looks at him, her head titled slightly. "You know…like when you get a bond with someone, a really special one…the one where you can tell what they are gonna say before they say it?" he nods. "It's like that…but, more. I just…when I think about it, I feel it you know? I feel it here." Her hand raises and lies against her breast where her heart beats steadily. His eyes leave hers to look at her hand before looking up at her again.

"What makes me like him?"

Rose sighs and leans against the bench, looking up at the roof of the cover. "You talk like him, you walk like him." Her eyes go to him, a sense of longing in them, perhaps a longing for comfort, and a kind she cannot find any longer. "Just…everythin', really. I know that might sound a bit daft, but it's true."

"So," he moved his hand, resting his check inside it. "Yer tellin' me that basically everythin' I do is a reminder?"

"Not everything. He wouldn't go after a married woman." She speaks softly. He falters, surprised by her attack and unable to think of a way to fight or defend against it. "'Course your motives were good to begin with, they always are for coppers aren't they? You go to enforce the law, but then it becomes about self justice." She stands and steps into the sand.

"And what would a girl who'd gone missin' without tellin' her mum know 'bout self justice and the law?" he bites back, watching as she stops.

Rose turns to him, she hurts now. "If you could go back and save someone from diein', would you?" he pauses and looks away, looking back at her. "Would you let your pride and sense of self justice get in the way or just let time go about on its own?"

"Can't really do that." He explains. "Can't go back in time."

"And if you could?" she asks. He stares at her, his eyebrows raising. "If you could go anywhere in time, if you had that power, would you?"

"Maybe." He answers after a moment.

He stands with his hands in his pockets on the intent of leaving, as it has been many moments since either of them have spoken. He steps off into the sand, walking but a few feet before he hears her speak.

"_There is nothing but silence now,_" she walks over to him, singing softly. "_Around the one I loved…is this our farewell?_" she passes him, not looking at him but continuing the song softly to herself. "_Sweet darling you worry too much, my child, see the sadness in your eyes?_" she stops a few feet in front of him as the wind blows, her head turning to look at him over her shoulder. "_You are not alone in life…although you might think… that you are._"

He knows this game and walks forward, his hands in his pockets and past her, not glancing at her but at the sandy road before him. "_Never thought this day would come so soon. We had no time to say good-bye._" He stops and turns halfway to her, his eyes daring to meet hers. "_How can the world just carry on?_"

"_I feel so lost when you are not in my sight._" She sings softly to him as he watches her. "_But there's nothing but silence now, around the one I loved…is this our farewell?_" she walks forward, falling into step beside him as their feet imprint into the sand.

"_Sweet darling you worry too much, my child see the sadness in your eyes._" They spoke to each other with their tune, looking at each other. "_You are not alone in life…although you might think that you are._" He stops and takes her arm, turning her to face him.

"_So sorry your world is tumbling down,_" he puts his hand on her shoulder in a carrying manner, squeezing it softly. "_I will watch you through these nights. Rest your head and go to sleep, because my child this is not our farewell. This is not…our farewell._" He stands there for a moment before turning and walking.

"You'd do best to stay away from her." She speaks up. He stops and turns to her. "Trust me on this, please. I don't want to see anyone hurt."

"And what might you be then?" he asks as he walks backwards. "The big bad wolf?" he turns and heads back to his job, to the murder and the man he must crush with his self justice. However something tells him to wait and watch. He trusts his feeling and stands beside a pole, watching as she leaves the beach and to the sidewalk. She stops in front of a blue public police box, bringing a key out and unlocking it, stepping inside. He blinks, tilting his head as he tries to understand what has happened.

Peter looks up at his partner the following. His partner returns his look. Peter relaxes in his chair, putting one ankle on his knee and his head in his palm. "You ever meet someone, and they keep comin' back to your thoughts, ever?"

"Constantly." His partner replies. "I think we call 'em suspects."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Not that kinda someone, blimey." He reaches out and takes his bowl in one hand, his glasses in his other. "Like someone comes to ya lookin' for an answer, ya give it to 'em, and ya just keep thinkin' bout that answer you gave 'em."

"Blimey don't tell me you've found another girl off the streets." His partner shakes his head and Peter's eyes narrow dangerously.

"Ain't like that." Peter defends himself. "Name's Rose Tyler, that one in London that was missin' for a couple months." he takes a bite of his cereal that has grown soggy in it's bowl. "She was the one that was 'ere yesterday lookin' for me. Wanted to talk."

"'Bout what?" his partner asks.

"Somehow I remind her of her dead companion." Peter raises his eyebrows to show his own confusion as his partner is baffled. "That's what I was thinkin' meself. Though she said she knew somethin' bout our little case here." He gestured to the pictures tacked to the wall with his spoon. "Wouldn't tell me anythin', said somethin' 'bout interferin' 'n' such." His partner shakes his head and goes back to work. "It's worth lookin' into I think."

"Oh like looking into Ridely's wife?" his partner shoots, but Peter glares at him. His partner watches as he stands, putting his bowl and glasses on the desk and heading out.

"Do a search on 'The Wolf'!" he calls out.

He walks along the boardwalk of Blackpool. His hands are firmly in his pockets as he walks rigidly, glancing around at the people that pass him for any clues or hints that can solve his case. Everything he needs seems to be in place, and yet he cannot find a way to pin the man he wants. The man he wants to serve on self-justice. He blinks and stops, looking forward at his path. He is confused, because now the same public police box he had seen by the beach is near the casino. Leaning against the doors is the woman, Rose, The Wolf. He licks his lips and continues up to her, his mouth open as he looks the box over.

"Didn't expect to see you again so soon, Detective." She says to him, looking up. He meets her gaze, seeing she is wearing a simple gray shirt, hoodie, and pants. His eyes travel back up to the police box, looking it over. "It's a Public Police Phone Box from the fifties." She explains, standing up and putting her hands on the side. The smile of bittersweet finds its way onto her face as she recalls a memory. "It's a disguise you know."

"Disguise for what?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rose darts at him, smiling as he shrugs. "Not sure if I trust ya with it yet, after all you don't believe me."

"'Bout, what, time?" he recalls with a shake of his head. "Yer right, I don't." he walks around the police box, inspecting it over. "I am however interested in information yer with drawlin' from me."

"About that dead boy?" Rose knows. She shakes her head. "And what do you plan to do to get me to talk about it, copper?"

"Well I can treat you to a dinner and a movie." He suggests with a grin.

"Aren't you in an immoral relationship?" she dares. He pauses and looks away, biting on his lip and shakes his head. "Ah…" her head tilts up then looks at him. "Alright."

"Alright? That's it?" he blinks, baffled.

"Just cause yer gonna treat me doesn't mean I'm gonna answer right away." She smiles and looks down at the watch, then up at him. "Seven sound alright to you?" he stares at her. "I'll meet you here at seven…there's your man." She points behind him. Peter leans backwards to see Ridley standing outside and speaking with the protestor. He turns to agree with her terms to find she has gone. His eyes travel up to the police box before he turns and heads to his man ready to wreak justice.


	2. Learning Curve

**Title: **Everybody's Fool

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Rose, Peter Carlisle, DC Blythe(Blackpool)

**Pairings: **hinted 9/Rose, Rose/Peter

**Spoilers**: Blackpool, and spoilers for Bad Wolf and POTW

**Summery: **D.I. Peter Carlisle continues his case of murder in Blackpool, attempting to frame Ridley. However a chance meeting with a young woman who knows more than she should may just lead him to somewhere he never imagined.

**Song Credits: **_The Heat of the Night_ by Bryan Adams

* * *

"So what did you find?"

Blythe looked up at him, surprised as normal. His partner eats a chicken strip from the small box at the fast food restaurant they had stopped at. The nagging question kept coming back to him as of how this man could eat and still be so scrawny. He sighed and shook his head, blinking as the sun came into his eyes.

"'Bout what?" he asked.

"Oh Blythe." Peter sighed. "I told you before I left to do a look up on '_The Wolf_'."

"Oh, yeh." He sighed again, looking up. "Well take your pick. Everything from movies to stories….although there was something interesting." He turned his attention back to his partner who looked down at him. "But before I tell you, I want to know why you had me look up something so stupid."

Peter looked forward, munching on another chicken strip. "Simple. She said she had information bout our case. Now, I reckon that if you looked up her name – Rose Tyler – you'd only find the things 'bout her missin' a few months ago. So, then, you look up the alias she goes by. She told me it was The Wolf. Simple as that, now what did you find?" he offered him a piece, but Blythe put his hand up. Peter shrugged.

"Well, uhm." Blythe sighed, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "Actually the only thing I found that might be even close was a conspiracy website." Peter looked at him oddly, taking a large bite from his snack. "Accordin' to this website this woman with the alias of 'The Wolf' has been appearing all over time and history, accordin' to the site that is. They got pictures of a blond girl with lotta people and a lotta places, famous places."

"Could be photo edited."

"Yea, I know." The partner looked up at him. "Though I wonder how they got her to be in the right clothing for the period." Peter shrugged. "Well you wanted to know what I found so I told you. Now what would this have to do with finding Mike Hooley's death?"

"Like I said, she said she knows who did it and who we outta be chargin'." Peter looked at him. "'Course she isn't gonna tell me easily. She told me to meet her by the arcade this evenin' at seven."

"You gonna show up? We all know how horrible you are at making appointments….unless there is food envolved." Blythe shot jokingly. Peter wiggled his eyebrows in response, a smile on his face as he ate another strip. "Honestly though, do you think she's gonna say anythin'?"

"Dunno, we'll have to see."

* * *

Rose shifted, looking up at the black night. The lights at the nearby arcade blinked with their normal amount of energy to bring in the customers. Cars based in Blackpool to their destinations, late or on time. It seemed so little and small, when time was so large and big. This murder wouldn't be at large in the future, but the effects on the people around it would be at large. That is why she was here. To stop a snowball affect that could doom the small little down. Maybe he wouldn't have d one it, but Rose felt a small certain love for her home country and planet.

Her eyes moved from the arcade to her wrist where she moved the fabric from her sleeve away to look at the time. It was seven thirty, he was late. Half of her expected it, the more logical and analytical part of her…but the human, the emotional side, was hurt. She sighed at herself, supposing that no matter how much she tried to get away from it, part of her would always be human. Rose folded her arms across her chest, looking around for the man in question. Of course he wouldn't come, not everyone was like her and would go running off with someone in a blue box when they had the chance.

Logic won. She turned to unlock the box and walk inside, closing the doors on this night and waiting for the morning where she could try to change things again.

"You kno', it's not really polite to be closin' the door in your date's face. Unless, of course, that's what they do in London now a days."

She was startled and spun around, back against the closed doors with her eyes wide. Peter stared at her, his eyebrows raised. She smiled nervously and nodded, standing up straight.

"Public Police Phone Box." He read. "You kno', you can get arrested for stealin' and livin' in police property."

"It doesn't belong to the police." She stated.

"Uh huh." He clicked his tongue against his teeth, pretending not to buy it. He returned his attention down to her. "Right then, so were are we goin' this fine lovely evenin'?"

The place she wanted to take him she couldn't, after all it was a popular club in the nineteen twenties in downtown New York. She could tell he really didn't trust her, but he had all the right to, she was withholding information from him. She smiled a bit, leaning against the blue box.

"Dunno, thought some popular club in town." She suggested. He tilted his head, not giving an approval, his eyes going to the blue box behind her. She smiled. His interests of the box had perked up a bit.

Maybe this wasn't a lost cause, thought her human instincts. However her logical part thought that the whole dating thing was petty and stupid. She should just confront him about what she needed to say, give him some time, and leave. But that would be heartless and cruel, which isn't something he needed at the moment. Who cares? He was stupid enough to go and fall in love with the woman. But you don't choose who you fall in love with! Who says that? Love is just a chemical balance in the brain. No it isn't, it's a feeling too!

Chemistry and a feeling. What an odd mix of science and human nature.

"A lot of those have been goin' in, yeh?" his voice cut through her thoughts and she looked back up at him. "Well then, let's get goin'. Don't want to be keeping Blackpool waitin'."

Peter Carlisle was a gentleman, there was no doubt in anyone's mind of that, besides Ripley's of course. He held his arm out to her, which she gladly took as they began walking down to the boardwalk, passing the arcade. They gave their nods to the protestor who sat outside the arcade, who nodded and smiled back. The night was young in Blackpool.

"Now that I think 'bout it, I'm pretty sure there is a swing club down at the waterfront." He said, looking down at her as her eyes met his gaze. "Watcha think 'bout that?"

"Swinging with a copper." Rose smiled, trying to add humor to the situation. "Well, I don't see any reason why not. I like dancing."

"I never said anythin' bout dancin', yeh?" Peter smirked. "I was just thinkin' the atmosphere would be coverin' up yer questionin'."

"I'm not going to answer anything until we start dancing." She responded with a defiant tone. He shrugged. He wasn't an up tight copper, he could allow a dance in here and there if it meant he could get what he needed out of her. He wanted this case solved. He wanted Ripley behind bars. He wanted out of Blackpool.

"Alright then, one dance, how bout that?"

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

The club was lively. Unlike the others that Peter usually went to on his off days, this one was filled with dancing and being alive, nothing to do with sex really. However this club focused on the American time periods of the Roaring Twenties through the Forties, and featuring music and any kind of drink in that twenty year period. He had to admit he was a bit surprised by how many people were here, but it just proved a better hand for his questioning. However the blond that had her arm tied with his arm didn't seem all that interested in his questioning, rather everything else that was going on. There would be times when she'd point something out.

She was incredibly knowledgeable. She knew things that a normal person wouldn't know unless they spent their lives researching it. That lead to even more suspicion in his mind, after all it wasn't surprising how she would know about Mike Hooley's gang if she knew the mafia family from the twenties that ran illegal gambling in the alleyways of San Francisco. He had asked how she knew about those, since that would have been classified information from the government.

"I met them." She had said simple and easily. "Not that nice of a bunch, you know. Rather rude, but their ladies seemed to convince them that I didn't mean that much so I was able to go free."

That wouldn't have been possible. They wouldn't even be alive now. She really was a nutter.

But despite that, Peter still found himself sitting across from Rose in the club. Her chin was in her hand, she was looking out over the dance floor with a distant glaze on her eyes, remembering something. He reached forward for his drink, raising his glass as he studied her. He knew she was hiding more than she was letting on, but what could he do to convince her to tell him? The quicker he got a witness for Ripley committing the crime the quicker it would be solved and he would be behind bars.

She looked at him. "You want to know something."

Direct, well that was always a nice start.

"Well there are a lotta things I want to kno' 'bout you." Peter agreed, leaning forward on the table as she turned her full attention to him. "Well besides Mike Hooley's murder of course."

"Shoot."

"Alright then." Peter smiled to himself and prepared himself for a long drawn out explanation. "I want to kno' why you are hanging around an old blue box. I want to kno' how you know all these things 'bout me. I want to kno' more about this companion of yours and why your mother canceled the missing note on you six months ago."

Rose shifted uncomfortably. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, copper."

Peter scoffed. "I'm shaggin' my main suspect's wife, most the time I don't even want to admit or believe that. I don't know who I've become, so I think it's safe to say that I'm open to believe anythin'."

"It's not a police box."

Peter blinked, his eyebrows knitting together. "Wot?"

"It's a ship." Rose continued explaining without bothering to wait for him to understand. "The police box is just a disguise like I told you. It's actually a ship," her eyes watched him as he sat back, blinking and trying to sort out if she really was a nutter or just pulling his chain. "It's called the TARDIS," she sat up. "I know all these things because I've seen em. Oh and my mum called off the missing note because she found out where I went as did the London police."

His brain decided to go for the unanswered question before trying to sort out her answer. "And yer companion?"

"Dead."

"Yes well we knew that, wot else 'bout him though?"

Rose looked away before looking back at him. "He invited me onto the TARDIS, it isn't my ship rightfully. It was his. I told you about him already. We traveled together."

"Traveled where?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Well I want to make certain that you're a nutter before I go on decidin' to trust yer word on Mike Hooley that's why." Peter said lowly.

"Everywhere." She answered the question curtly. "Anywhere. Anytime. That's where. Does that answer your question?"

"…not really, but I suppose that's the best we are gonna get now, yeh?" Peter took another drink. He set the drink down and stood up, putting his payment on the table and headed to the door. Yet another dead lead. Why did a dead man have to be so damn complicated anyways? He opened the door and stepped outside, walking down the steps quickly. He heard the bell on the door ring and he turned, seeing Rose standing in the door way, holding the door open as more people stepped inside.

"_Met a man with a message from the other side._" She stepped down and walked up to him, glaring slightly as he turned to move away from her but she cut him off. "_Couldn't take the pressure – had to leave it behind._" Peter stepped around her and continued on but she followed. "_He said 'It's up to you! You can run or you can fight._'" She could tell she wasn't making her point, so she took him by the arm and stepped in front of him and glared. "_Better leave it alone in the heat of the night._"

Peter scowled and stepped away again, knowing that she was switching the topic onto him and his affair. It wasn't any of her business. Why she kept pressuring it made no sense to him, but he tried to block out her voice and song, but it somehow seemed to pin through him. He felt like the dartboard, between the darts and the wall.

"_In the heat of the night they'll be comin' around. They'll be lookin' for answers. They'll be chasin' you down._" She sang louder as he stopped, standing with his back to her. "_In the heat of the night._"

"_Had to pay the piper to call the tune.__ Said he'd be back someday – said he'd be back real soon._" Peter kept his back to her as he darted back. "_Pull the shades down low – you'll know when the time is right._" He turned slightly, glaring at her. "_When you're lyin' alone in the head of the night._"

"_Where you gonna hide when it all comes down?_" she asked.

"_Don't' look back don't ever turn around._" He shot.

"_In the heat of the night they'll be comin' around._" She stepped forward.

He stepped forward. "_They'll be lookin' for answers._"

"_They'll be chasin' you down!_" she shouted.

"_In the heat of the night._" They yelled at another, now face to face, angry.

"_They'll be comin' around._" He shouted.

"_They'll be lookin' for answers!_" she shouted back.

"_They'll be chasin' you down!_"he yelled. "_In the heat of the night._"

With that he turned and began stalking off, insulted, turning like a dog with its tail between its legs at the truth that had been slapped to his face. However he stopped and looked over his shoulder, seeing her angry but proud with herself for hitting him verbally. She still knew something he didn't, but he couldn't work in his angry state of mind, in his bitterness. He continued back to his hotel room, walking and pushing people out of his way.

Rose knew he'd come looking for her in the morning. She realized that they never did get that dance.


End file.
